Living Martyr, Quidditch Star
by Rocket Surgery
Summary: The final confrontation with Voldemort has left Harry unable to preform magic. Can he find a purpose in life? Can Hermione help him? A very short ficlet, please review if you would like me to continue it.
1. Living Martyr, Quidditch Star

Living Martyr, Quidditch Star

The celebration had lasted long into the early morning hours, yet eventually most of the revelers had succumbed to exhaustion and turned in for the night to sleep it off. A certain messy-haired, emerald-eyed, 17-year-old man wasn't going to be sleeping any time soon. Alone, he was on the beach, lying on the sand and staring up at the incredible blanket of stars, listening to the small waves brush the shore, and silently crying.

"Lumos... lumos... lumos," whispered Harry, the wand movements were perfect, the incantation pronounced flawlessly, yet no light came.

"Harry," startled, he quickly sat up, wiping his eyes with the back of his bandaged arm.

"Hello Hermione," he said with a weak smile.

"May I sit?" she said softly.

"Of course," said Harry, indicating the sand next to him, "Pull up some sand."

"I'm not going to even bother asking if you're ok, because I know you aren't," she said simply.

"Well of course I'm not!" his voice was angry now, "I'm !#$ing useless now, I'm like a squib now or something, I don't even know. I've been a weapon for years now, and now that I've finished the job, I end up like I'm a muggle or something!"

"I thought you got over your self-pity stage years ago Harry," he looked at her with an expression of shock and anger at the verbal affront, "You're acting like this is the end of the world or something. Yes... it's a most terrible fate, you can't do magic anymore, but you're alive, and you've canceled out the power of the most evil dark wizard in centuries. Are you saying you'd rather be dead? Because I wouldn't," choked Hermione.

"How noble of you! You'd rather I be a living martyr than a dead one huh? Well I wouldn't, I can't do what I'm best at, what I live for, I fought with everything I had so I could kill that bastard and live my life in peace, maybe learn what it's like to have a normal life in the wizarding world, and now what? I can't do anything? What am I going to do? Can't be an Auror, can't do magic, can't teach magic either, can't play... wait a sec..." He choked on his words. His facial expression changed from one of utter hopelessness to maniacal glee, he began to laugh uncontrollably.

Leaping to his feet, Harry pulled a confused Hermione to her feet and began to spin her around in a crazed dance, laughing the whole while.

"What the heck is into you?" she shrieked, wondering if she should be laughing in joy or putting Harry into St. Mungos post haste.

"You're a genius as always! I'm such a !#$ idiot!" he screamed at the stars, "I can't believe I didn't think of it earlier, but you made me think of it and you didn't even realize it!"

Grabbing Harry's shoulders in a tight grip she forced him to look at her, she spoke slowly, "What... are... you... talking... about?"

"QUIDDITCH! I don't need magic to play it! I can be the first squib to play professionally or something!" he laughed, then kissed her firmly on the mouth and skipped down the beach laughing all the way.

Smirking, Hermione chased after him.


	2. The Most Famous Snitch Ever Caught

Harry ceased his mad dash down the beach when Hermione tackled him from behind, laughing hysterically, they collapsed in a heap. Extricating himself, Harry reached into the pocket of his shorts, and removed a Snitch, which struggled in his grasp.

"I want you to have this," he said, holding it out to Hermione.

"Is this... is this the Snitch you caught last match?" Hermione asked quietly, "This has got to be the most important Snitch ever caught, I can't possibly accept it."

"I want you to have it," he forced it into her hand.

3 Months Ago:

To everyone watching the match, the most spectacular Quidditch win in the history of the sport took place in a blurry series of events lasting no more than 5 seconds, but to Muggle-born witch Hermione Granger, it took place in ultra-slo-motion thanks to the Omnioculars Harry had given her and Ron at the Quidditch World Cup 3 years prior. This was the most important match Harry had ever played, as it was to be his final school match, the house and Quidditch cups rode on the results, and it was against Gryfindor's traditional rivals Slytherin house.

Despite Ron Weasley's excellent goal tending, the Gryfindor Beaters weren't defending well. The Slytherins were winning 300-140. Harry had sighted the Snitch several times, but wasn't going for it because even if he caught it, with the current score Slytherin would win, as an additional 150 points would end the game with Gryfindor's score still behind Slytherin's lead.

At the time of what was to be the most famous Quidditch game in the history of the sport, Harry Potter was high above the Slytherin goals. He kept an eye on Slytherin Seeker Draco Malfoy, while watching his teammates bellow try to get another goal in so he could actively pursue the Snitch. It was an incredibly difficult balance, to keep an eye out for the Snitch without Malfoy noticing when he actually saw it, so every so often Harry would feint drawing Malfoy into a useless chase.

Harry watched the latest scoring attempt by Gryfindor's Chasers, unfortunately Ginny Weasley's shot on the center goal was knocked aside by a well aimed bludger. Slytherin was in possession and speeding towards the goal with little in their way. The Chasers passed back and forth as they approached Ron, the crowd roared with anticipation, the Slytherin Chaser faked left and threw at the center goal with all his might, but Ron managed to swoop in and literally punched the Quaffle back down the pitch. Harry followed its trajectory as Ginny Weasley caught the Quaffle and sped at the lone keeper guarding the Slytherin side. Harry groaned in sympathy as Ginny was slammed by a Bludger in the back, sending the Quaffle flying out of her hands towards the Slytherin Keeper, and then he saw the golden Snitch.

It fluttered mere inches from the Slytherin center goal, and the most incomprehensibly insane idea popped into Harry's head as he dove at the limit of his Firebolt's speed directly at the Snitch. The crowd was screaming as they noticed his blurry form diving straight down at the Slytherin Keeper, who looked up, eyes wide, at Harry flying 150 miles per hour straight at him. Hauling back on the handle of his broom, Harry reduced his speed, caught the Quaffle, and tossed it through the goal, bringing the overall score to 300-150. A Bludger slammed into Harry's ribs, knocking him off his broom, as he fell he still managed to capture the struggling Snitch in his fingers, yelled triumphantly, and then saw the rushing ground coming up to greet him. The crowd watched in horror as Harry fell 20 feet, but he never hit the ground. Feeling a familiar tug behind his navel, Harry Potter disappeared from the pitch and slammed into the ground on a sand dune, in a desert in the middle of nowhere. The Snitch disguised as a port key struggled feebly in Harry's hand as the sun beat mercilessly down on him.


End file.
